


Solid and Still

by amonkeysue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amonkeysue/pseuds/amonkeysue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recovering from Loki's presence isn't an easy thing. Natasha isn't going to let Clint struggle through it alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Le déluge

The world was various shades of blue and gray, with a little white and black thrown in here and there for contrast. It made for an intriguing two-tone cityscape. Clint was carefully walking through the streets, his bow in hand and an arrow nocked. He was looking for something or someone, anything that was out of the usual in this monotonous view.

Mocking laughter assaulted him from all sides, ringing in his ears. 

He ran, but the sound followed and only got worse. In frustration, he shot at where it seemed like the sound might be originating from. 

The world grew silent for a moment. Clint let his shoulders relax momentarily and breathed out a deep sigh of relief, barely managing a tired smile on top of his movements. This wasn’t the first time he had done this, and every time it seemed harder.

The laughter came roaring back, even stronger. It vibrated the ground.

Just as Clint started to run, the road seemingly leapt up and clutched at his feet, locking him in place. Before he could stumble onto his face the road grabbed at his arms, holding him at a diagonal. 

On either side, the houses started to melt into a river of color, quickly covering him. He managed out one last gasp for air.

All he could see was a bright blue light. It started to eat away at him, eroding any clear thought.

\--

The sheets were suffocating him. Clint threw them off with a ragged gasp and sat up off the edge of the bed, half hunched over. His breaths raggedly went in and out, his chest heaving with every movement.

Natasha softly stirred beside him, curling into the sheets that sat bunched on her side of the bed.

Clint rested his head in his hands and quietly groaned.

“Mmm… Clint?” Natasha tiredly asked, slowly sitting up. She brushed back a large clump of hair that had fallen in her face.

“Nat, ’m okay,” he muttered over one shoulder, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

She didn’t buy his words, moving over to wrap her arm around his lower back and slightly lean against his side as Clint straightened. He was shaking. “Another nightmare?” She kept her voice quiet.

Clint nodded and lowly said, “It’s the usual.”

“Talk to me.” Natasha started to rub circles along his back, glad to see that his shaking subsided as she rubbed.

Clint hesitated, half rolling his shoulders forward before he quietly said, “I see shades of blue everywhere and I’m drowning in it. I can hear his voice. It’s following me, no matter where I turn, where I try and escape to. It’s trying to push me one direction when I’m trying to go another. I’m doing things I wish I hadn’t. I’m losing what makes me Clint Barton.” He swallowed hard and turned to look at Natasha, his eyes haunted. Barely above a whisper, he managed out, “And I’m losing you.”

“I’m okay Clint. I’m right here. I’m staying right here,” murmured Natasha. She retracted her arm from around Clint, moving in front of him and softly cradling his face in her hands as she settled on his legs. Before Natasha spoke, she waited until Clint’s eyes met her gaze. “And Loki’s gone.”

“I feel like he’s still in my head, Nat,” he miserably managed out, “He’s like some headache that won’t go away, no matter what I pump into my system.”

“Clint Barton. Don’t.” She shook her head once. “You can’t let yourself hold onto this.”

“I thought I was going to be okay at first, after you got to me. I felt better. Now I don’t know anymore.”

“Don’t let the past destroy you,” Natasha lowly warned. With one thumb she idly traced swirling patterns along the side of Clint’s face. Solemnly, she said, “You’re Clint Barton, not just some extension of a mad man’s desire.” She leaned forward. “You’re one of the most important people in the world.” Natasha kissed him. After several seconds she pulled back, whispered, “I love you,” and leaned back in to kiss him again.

Clint softened at the contact, kissing back. After several moments he and Natasha pulled apart, resting their foreheads together.

“I love you too Nat,” he breathed out.

Natasha slightly shifted how she was holding her weight.

Clint heavily swallowed.

“Do you remember what you said to me after you introduced me to Fury?”

He managed out a hollow chuckle. “I said a lot of things to you Nat. I was trying to get through to you somehow to see if you couldn’t open up or even look my way without murder in your eyes.”

“You were rather talkative. But what I’m aiming at is that you told me that we decide who we are. It’s not up to anyone else. Sure, they can exert their influence. At the end of the day though, it’s your life, your choices. Your future on the line, your happiness or lack thereof. All your decision.”

“I am pretty sure I didn’t say it like that.”

“No, you didn’t,” agreed Natasha.

“You always make everything sound much more poetic than I ever could.”

“You still said it pretty well.”

“Did I? I don’t remember.”

Natasha lightly laughed and scooted forward on Clint’s lap. “Somehow you always manage to forget the things you said the best.”

“I just wish there was a way I could make myself forget about everything that happened with Loki…” Clint mournfully muttered.

Natasha dropped her happy air. “Clint, please. You can’t hold onto this. You’re only holding on to him and making it worse. You have to let go. No one’s faulting you. We just want to help, see you back into being our wisecracking Clint Barton.” She loosely looped her arms around Clint’s neck. “My wisecracking Clint Barton.”

“Again, you really have a way with words.”

“Clint…” Natasha pulled him into a hug.

His arms wrapped around her almost right away, and he buried his head in her shoulder. She leaned her head against his.

“I think with you I just might be able to make it,” Clint whispered.

They remained hugging for several long minutes, barely shifting only to draw the other closer. 

“Think you can fall back asleep?” Natasha finally asked.

He glanced to the clock. Glowing red digits told him it was 3:28 in the morning. “Probably should at least try. Need to be alert for talking to the doctor,” he murmured, looking down as he spoke.

Natasha softly smiled at Clint in a gesture of support before silently migrating back to her side of the bed, carefully regarding Clint as he settled in.

“You know you’re going to be okay,” she stated, no sign of doubt evident in her voice.

“I hope.”

“If you’re not okay I’ll make a couple of select house calls. Trust me Clint. Please. You’re going to be fine.”

“All I know is that you’re one of the most solid things I have left.” There was a distant look in his eyes.

Gingerly, Natasha reached for his hand and entangled her fingers with his. He squeezed back, reassuring her that, yes, he was listening and aware after all, despite appearances to the contrary.

“Just make sure you remember that.”

“I will.” Clint absentmindedly repeated himself, “I will.”


	2. Clouds and Stars

“I need you to be honest with me, Agent Barton.”

“I am being honest with you.”

The psychologist- an Agent [Doctor] Nichols- looked over her thick-rimmed glasses at Clint. Disbelief was fully evident in her expression. “No Agent Barton. You’re hiding things from me and by extension, yourself. You knew going into this that there full well was going to be pain and it would be difficult. You’re the one who specifically asked to talk to a SHIELD psychologist. I cannot help you if you don’t want to help yourself.” She absentmindedly tapped her pen against her notebook.

He loudly sighed and leaned over to rest his head in his hands. “I know,” he murmured.

“Really,” Agent Nichols flatly replied. She stared at Clint’s form.

“It just… I need some time. To work through things in my own head before I can tell anyone you about them,” he muttered.

“Perhaps you can talk to a confidante first? Talking the matter through with someone really can help you work it out yourself. I don’t necessarily believe I have to say this, but I’ll say it just in case: talk to Agent Romanoff.”

Clint remembered that Agent Nichols had been briefed by Fury on some potentially helpful information that couldn’t be found in the files she had been given on Clint. Which included such info as the exact nature of the extension of his and Natasha’s partnership.

“Respectfully, I think she already has an idea of enough of the problems at hand. I’m not going to weigh down her mind just to make myself feel better.”

Agent Nichols inclined her head in acknowledgement of Clint’s statement. “Okay. But what if she wants you to reach out to her, Agent Barton? What if Agent Romanoff wants you to talk to her about the details? Give her something to hold onto while you can work through what you need to. Use your best judgment, but I’m only making a strong suggestion.”

He drew his hands down the length of his face and sat back up with an exhale. “You want me to say I’ll do it.”

“I just want you to do whatever will be best for a speedy recovery. Whatever is in your best interests.”

“Fine.” He looked Agent Nichols square in the eye. “I’ll try. That’s the best you’re getting.”

She continued her stare. “I’m hardly the one you should be fighting, Agent Barton.”

“Yeah, ‘cus the guy I should be fighting against is a whole realm away and hopefully behind bars after whatever justice system Asgard has got through with him,” Clint sighed. His shoulders rolled forward.

“Neither does your anger belong with Asgard or Thor for dealing with Loki their own way.”

In one fluid motion, Clint stood and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He faced the nearby window. “Believe me, if I were angry, they’d know it. I’m not angry at them. Thor did what he should’ve.”

Agent Nichols wrote something in her notebook. “You just wish you could’ve had a little justice of your own before Loki was carted off.”

Clint managed a large shrug. “All I know is that I probably would sleep a little better if I’d been able to stick an arrow through his eyeball.”

“I believe wise men have said something along the lines of how vengeance gets you nowhere. But, since you mentioned it, how has your sleep been? Any restless patterns developing? Any recurring nightmares?”

Her pen was poised above her notebook.

He hesitated. If he said yes, she would ask him to elaborate, something he didn’t necessarily feel up to doing at the moment. It was draining enough to have the nightmares, let alone live them all over again just for Agent Nichols to take notes on how he was or wasn’t coping well enough. Then again, she’d get to them eventually, one way or another.

“No restless patterns. It’s more random than that. And honestly, I’d be more surprised if there weren’t recurring nightmares.”

She tapped the far end of her pen against the inside of the notebook. “Have you considered keeping a sleep journal?”

The look Clint gave Agent Nichols explained enough without words. “Tell me why you think it’d be a good idea for me to keep one.”

“Writing out your nightmares is a way to keep the details personal but process through what you see and feel. If you keep one accurately you may be able to detect patterns in your sleeping habits. Or lack thereof, of course.”

Wryly, Clint asked, “Does it need to have clouds and stars with a fancy gold font that says ‘Dream Journal’ on the cover?”

Agent Nichols smiled. “Whatever you want.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to find one with flying pigs, would you?” he joked, “Or a cow jumping over the moon? I think it would be the perfect contrast in between content and appearances.” He collapsed back onto the couch, his arms flung out across the back.

“I’ll see if there’s anything I can find. In the meanwhile, if you intend to keep one, perhaps you can make do with something more monochromatic?” She reached behind her to open one of her desk drawers and fished out navy blue, black, and bright pink journals.

“Anything purple? That’s more my color.”

Again, she smiled. After putting the other journals back, she pulled out a dark purple journal and handed it over to Clint.

“Is that good enough for you, Agent Barton?”

He almost chuckled. Almost. “Yeah, I s’pose that’ll work.”

“I’ll try and find one with flying pigs.”

“Wouldn’t that just be swell.”

Agent Nichols set aside her notebook and gracefully stood. “Well, that’s been our hour.”

“Uhuh.” Clint also came to his feet.

“Remember, if you need anything until our next session, feel free to call. I’d much rather nip something in the bud than deal with a stream of damage.”

“If I need you I’ll get in contact.” He awkwardly waved the purple journal. “And I’ll, um, give this a try I guess. See what happens.”

She escorted him towards the door. “Have a good week, Agent Barton.”

“You too.”

After Agent Nichols shut the door behind him, Clint stood there for several moments, absentmindedly flipping through the pages of the journal.

Filling it would be all too simple


	3. I Do Believe

The journal sat on the dining table in front of Clint. He sat with his shoulders hunched over and stared through it, lost in the recesses of his mind.

He was still staring at it when Natasha found him after she returned to their little apartment. A mild sigh nearly escaped her at the sight. As much as she understood the reasons why he wouldn’t act per usual overnight, it remained difficult to see him like this and know that there was only so much she could do to help. “Clint?”

The staring at the journal continued.

She moved to put a hand on Clint’s shoulder, instantly pulling it back as he jumped.

Her own surprise at his abrupt reaction was successfully kept from the surface.

“Clint?”

His expression spoke of surprise at seeing Natasha there. A word almost formed on the tip of Clint’s tongue before he abruptly stood and pulled Natasha into a deep hug.

“’kay then,” she murmured, content to hug him tightly in return. Anything to help. “I’m still here Clint. I’ve got you.” Natasha glanced over to the table and the journal. “So what’s that for?” she softly asked, trying to distract him in some way for the sake of both of them.

Clint made no effort to move or voice any sort of explanation.

A quick glance back to him told Natasha exactly why.

Slowly enough for Clint to realize she had something to tell him and was not pulling away out of irritation, she pulled away to grab a notepad from the nearby counter and wrote, ‘How did your appointment go?’ before handing it to Clint.

He shrugged. ‘Okay,’ Clint scribbled out, followed with an accompanying hand gesture before he wrote, ‘She wants me to keep a sleep journal.’ He handed the notepad back. Without looking behind him, Clint picked up the journal and flipped through a couple of the pages before handing it to Natasha with an overly enthusiastic smile. 

‘It could be a good idea,’ she agreed on the notepad.

‘You might have to remind me.’

‘I can do that.’

‘Thanks,’ he signed. A moment passed before Clint hesitantly wrote, ‘Natasha, can I talk to you?’ He attempted an optimistic smile and nervously clasped his hands together before raising them in front of him. He slowly signed out, ‘It might get a little deep.’

The nervous gesture and his hesitancy spoke volumes above anything else.

She was the one to pull him into a hug, wholly wrapping her arms around him and snuggling her head against his shoulder and neck. Clint leaned onto her.

His chest heaved.

Natasha hugged tighter for several long moments before pulling away. She gave Clint a bright smile, happy to see him manage a smile back before walking over to the counter and slipping his external ear pieces back over his ears.

Clint lightly tapped them each once.

“Yes,” she instantly said.

“Hmm?”

“Yes, you can talk to me. I didn’t actually respond to the question, only hugged you,” explained Natasha.

Clint pulled out Natasha’s chair for her before sitting down beside her. “I’m going to try and keep this concise.”

“Whatever you want to say, I’m happily here to listen,” she quietly said, reaching for Clint’s hand and giving it a small squeeze.

He swallowed. “It’s rough.”

She looked him straight in the eye and calmly stated, “I know.”

“And I know he is actually gone, but it just doesn’t feel like it. Every single time I close my eyes he’s there, laughing or, or just looking so triumphant, like he knows that he’s still haunting me. I can’t get away from him Nat.” Clint’s eyes had gone wide and distant. “I can’t get any better if I’m always having to deal with him.”

“It takes time to outrun our demons,” she murmured.

“I just want to be me again.” He squeezed Natasha’s hand. “To be unmade… I’m still trying to figure out where to go from there. Where the pieces fit.”

“Remember that you’re not alone.”

Clint nodded. “I know. I don’t think I would have made any progress without you Nat. You’re the most important thing I’ve got going for me. You’re my cornerstone.”

“So what can I do to help?” Natasha made no effort to disguise the minute note of desperation in her voice.

For a moment Clint only stared at Natasha. He started to say something, only to stop, taking several seconds before managing out, “I’m not sure. Beyond just being here for me, I don’t know yet.” He lowered his gaze. “That’s part of my problem.”

“Hey,” Natasha whispered, pulling her chair closer to Clint and reaching for his other hand. “It’s okay Clint.”

“You told me that this was monsters and magic and all Loki and that we weren’t trained for this. Which is all true.” Clint let out a shaky breath before hastily continuing. “But we have to deal with it. And I can’t trust myself to sleep through the night, let alone sleep at all. Anyone SHIELD who knows what happened looks at me just a little more carefully now. There are a lot of SHIELD agents dead, including Coulson. Yeah, it may not be directly my fault, but I’m a little bit responsible.”

Natasha frowned. “Clint-.”

He again met her eye. In a painful whisper, he said, “I should have been stronger. If I could have just fought him off, maybe I could have stopped him before he got too far.”

Concern pressed across her expression. “Don’t do this.”

“Nat,” Clint sighed, “it’s not gonna help me if I don’t accept this.”

“Except it’s not your fault!” She stood and stepped so that she was able to wrap her arms around Clint’s shoulders. “I did tell you this was monsters and magic and all Loki. And I need you to believe that. Please. This isn’t your fault Clint. There is no way we could have known what we were to be thrown up against. Revisiting it time after time is only going to hurt.”

He leaned his head back to look up at Natasha.

She quickly dropped a kiss to his cheek. 

“I love you,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

A smile escaped Natasha. “Love you too Barton.” The smile nearly vanished a moment later, replaced yet again by concern. “But don’t you dare do this to yourself. Beating yourself up does nothing helpful.”

“Helps me focus?”

“Not on the right things.”

“Well ‘s not like I have too many things to focus on right now anyhow.”

“Do you want fieldwork?”

Clint shrugged. “Maybe. I need something… productive though. And somehow I doubt I’d be given fieldwork clearance again just yet.”

“We can be persuasive, if it’s what you need.”

He reached to lace his fingers with Natasha’s, comforted by the solidarity.

“Hell, I’d be happy to sit on base and do paperwork.”

Natasha curiously quirked an eyebrow, holding a smirk at bay. “Oh no. You want to sit and do paperwork. Now I’m concerned. Maybe I hit you too hard and the aftereffects are only just now appearing?”

Slowly, a grin spread across Clint’s face. “You’re hilarious.”

“I’ve learned a few tricks from a certain sharpshooter.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

“I tend to think so.”

“Also sounds like a very flawed guy.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“This conversation just got very philosophical all of a sudden.”

“Well,” Natasha murmured, “maybe there’s something to be learned here.”

Clint found himself swallowing. “Maybe. But maybe there’s also something to be said at the moment on the importance of sleep.”

“Mmm. I hear you.”

“Sleepy time it is.”


	4. Reunion

An unruly child sitting outside the principal’s office while their parents were contacted.

That’s what Clint felt like.

Agent Nichols and Natasha were in Fury’s literal office, and had been for quite some time. Clint had stopped counting the minutes after hearing a muted yell of “Nick!” from Natasha.

If he would have thought ahead, he would have brought his toolkit so he could fiddle around with new arrow tips. Or maybe he would have completely talked Natasha out of it, on second thought. Maybe Fury was seeing the situation clearer than either Natasha or Clint at the moment. If he didn’t want Clint back in the field under any circumstances just yet, there had to be something that the people on the outside saw better. It had to be a matter of-

The door opened, and Clint found himself half unconsciously leaping to his feet, something earnest in his expression.

Agent Nichols smiled at him. Her own expression bore no clues as to Fury’s decree, every single detail screaming of composure, despite the rumblings he had distantly overheard. She simply told Clint, “Director Fury wants you in there,” before walking off.

He only hesitated for a moment before stepping inside and softly shutting the door behind him.

Fury was calmly sitting at his desk, both hands resting on the table in front of him. He gestured to the chair nearest to the door. “Clint, please sit.”

In the other chair, Natasha sat, bearing an annoyed look and with her arms folded. She didn’t glance over to Clint.

A thick layer of suffocating silence felt nearly tangible in the room. 

“Having a nice day, Director?”

“Quaint,” Fury drily replied before leaning forward and clasping his hands together. “So you’d like to be back in the field.”

“I’d like to be treated like an adult who doesn’t need someone holding their hand every few steps. I’m still capable of responsibly and effectively doing my job,” Clint immediately said in answer.

“Agent Nichols has some reason to believe that you’ve got to get yourself to a place where your emotions of the Battle of New York incident are figured out before you get back into fieldwork. Going in too early could just extend your recovery process.”

Natasha bitterly huffed. “SHIELD psychologists are very nice people, but they don’t always know what’s best for one of their patients, especially if they’re not close to your ‘typical human being.’”

As she well knew from the long string of psychologists Natasha had seen upon initially being brought into SHIELD. Clint couldn’t keep from a quick smile at the memory. HR had been exceptionally wary of her ever since.

Fury pointedly looked from Natasha to Clint and back. “While I recognize that you do speak from experience, Natasha, the opinion on Agent Nichol’s judgments is probably best coming from Clint. Yes, you’re invested in the situation,” Fury paused to focus on Clint, “but I’ll trust you to decide who you’re going to listen to and what you’re going to do.”

Clint swallowed and shifted in the chair. “If I were to say that I do want to go on a mission here soon, can you give me a prediction of what sort of mission I’d be doing?”

“Would you want to go with Natasha?”

He didn’t look over and knowledge of their history told him Natasha hadn’t either.

“We’re Strike Team Delta. It feels natural to go together.”

To the side Natasha gave a satisfied smile.

“Do you have a preference for what you’d want to do?” Fury asked Clint.

He shrugged. “I’m open to anything shorter than a few days or so.”

Natasha finally unfolded her arms. “Something international that we can fly ourselves to and keep casualties to a minimum on would be nice.”

To Clint’s questioning look, she only raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll talk to Hill, see what we can arrange for the two of you.”

\--

It took an excruciating two days, but Maria finally called to tell Clint that he and Natasha would be set to take a Quinjet out to a SHIELD owned hangar near Amsterdam, after which they would make their way into the city and lay low while gathering intel on the possibility of a developing bioweapon. The murmurings SHIELD had picked up on indicated that the maker might have obtained some black market Chitauri technology to help.

Rather than need to ‘borrow’ a car to get inside city limits, they instead opted to root around a shed just outside the hangar.

“Bicycles?”

“Let’s do it.”

It had been a smooth ride into Amsterdam.

Clint had a little spring in his step as they walked up Jordaan.

“Don’t get too distracted, Barton,” Natasha drily teased, careful to keep a smile off her face.

He playfully huffed. “Me? Distracted? Only around you.”

“That could be a problem.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Thank goodness.” She stepped closer to Clint’s side and slipped her arm through his, murmuring, “Do you see them?” 

He raised a camera while Natasha pointed to some of the local architecture.

“I see them. Should we follow?”

For a moment, Natasha hesitated. “We are technically only here to gather intel. I don’t have my Bites, you don’t have your bow.”

“We don’t strictly need those to be effective,” he reminded, tongue-in-cheek.

“I know. I also don’t want us to shake the boat. Bioweapons can already be fragile cases, let alone with Chitauri technology to help. If we just note as much as we can and report, nothing can possibly go wrong. Plus,” she bumped her hip against Clint’s, turning to whisper, “we don’t really get much in way of vacation, and today is lovely.”

“Is Amsterdam even on our list?”

She sighed. “Clint.”

Were it not for the camera in one hand and Natasha’s arm looped through his other arm, he would have raised both hands in deference. “Hey, I hear you. We take some notes, capture a few photographs, and then we can enjoy some time to ourselves before even reporting in.” He grinned and quickly leaned over to quickly kiss Natasha. “I love it,” he cheekily finished.

Natasha let her smile shine through. “Work first.”

He didn’t comment on her clearly eliciting some quiet downtime for the two of them. When Natasha was ready to share, she would. Instead he extended his grin and bumped her near shoulder.

“I hear ya.”


End file.
